


Scarves, Snow, and Sleepless Nights

by SongOfTheLostSea



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventures at midnight, Days of Peace, Hurt/Comfort, Life in Valinor, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Snow, The Silmarillion - Freeform, Tirion, Tolkien, Young Finrod, Young Glorfindel, Young Turgon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 12:03:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9606821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SongOfTheLostSea/pseuds/SongOfTheLostSea
Summary: One cold and snowy night in Tirion, a young Glorfindel cannot sleep and goes in search of his friends to join him in a midnight adventure. The snow is bright and beautiful, perfect for a wintery adventure, but Glorfindel, Turgon, and Finrod get more than they bargained for…This story is also on FanFiction.net on my account, MistySpiritWolf.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of Tolkien’s works, or any of the characters in them.  
> This story is set during the Years of the Trees in Tirion. Glorfindel, Turgon, and Finrod are all quite young, hence their excitable nature and reckless sense for adventure (although this does not really change much ;).  
> Since Tolkien did not go into depth on Glorfindel’s past and heritage, I have made an educated assumption and theory of who his parents were. In my version of events, he is the only son of Írimë and an OC Vanyar, Élaurëon.  
> As for names, I have decided to go with a mixture of their Quenya names and their renditions in Sindarin. When I refer to the characters in the story, I will use their names in Sindarin, as they are more commonly known. However, when the characters speak to each other, they will use their Quenya names, as this is what would have been done at the time.
> 
> So, I hope you enjoy this sweet little fic ;). It is probably going to be quite short and light.  
> Thank you for reading!

Glorfindel lay in bed, staring up at the low hanging ceiling of his room. It was nigh midnight, but he could not convince himself to fall asleep. Although it was late, the light of Telperion shone brightly across the winter lands and sky, casting its mystical glow through his window and illuminating the little bedroom. He gave a heavy sigh, crossing his small arms across his chest as he glared angrily at the window, wishing he could somehow veil the tree that cast out the offending light. He would never get to sleep like this.

Almost an hour more passed in virtually the same way, save that Glorfindel had by now grown a lot more frustrated. Finally with a great huff, he pushed the quilt off of him and crawled out of bed. He winced slightly as his feet touched the cold floor and was about to go back to bed when an idea suddenly popped into his head. A smile slowly spread across his face and he immediately forgot about his loss of sleep.

Heart pounding in his chest, he hurried over to his closet and quickly dressed, pulling his warm winter cloak around his shoulders and doing up the clasp with trembling fingers. He grabbed his boots from the corner and slowly pushed the door to his room open, peaking out into the corridor to make sure his parents were not awake. No sound came from the hall, and after a few moments, he slipped out of his room and tiptoed silently through the still house.

He made it to the front door without any trouble and almost fell over in his rush to pull his boots on. Now that he was so close to succeeding in his escape, his fear had suddenly heightened and with every moment that passed, he imagined he could hear his parents’ footsteps coming down the hall.

Barely a minute later, he stumbled out onto the front steps, shoving the door closed behind him and breathing a huge sigh of relief. Raising bright blue-green eyes to the sky, he took in the beautiful winter landscape that spread out in front of him. Large fluffy snowflakes tumbled down from the deep blue sky, landing all around him and covering the world in a blanket of sparkling whiteness.

Glorfindel gave a small squeal of excitement, jumping down the steps of his front porch and launching himself into the deep snow. It caught him gently, softening his fall and cushioning in around him. He laughed, jumping to his feet again and leaping into the air to catch a snowflake on his tongue. It was perfect! Well worth sneaking out past his parents.

All thoughts of guilt and worry disappearing, Glorfindel ran off down the little path that wound out from their house, laughing as he skipped happily along. This was not a night that should be missed. He needed to share it with his friends.

It did not take him long to reach his Uncle Fingolfin’s house as it was situated quite near to his own, and when he arrived he was practically bouncing with excitement. Searching around in the garden that fringed the house, he found a small stone and hurried over to the edge of the house. Standing below the tall building, he stared up at the window high above, wondering if this was really the best idea. What if he accidentally woke Turgon’s older brother, Fingon? But he knew Turgon would love it out there in the wintery wonderland, and he swallowed his fear and tossed the small stone upwards. It bounced off the window with a sharp smack before falling back down and hitting him on the head. Wincing in pain, Glorfindel waited with baited breath, rubbing his sore head as he watched the dark window.

He was just about to try throwing the stone again, when the window suddenly swung open and Turgon’s head appeared around the wooden frame, his dark hair blowing about his face in the wind. He looked around in confusion, obviously trying to locate the source of the noise that had awoken him.

“Down here!” Glorfindel called up to him, waving his arms to get his friend’s attention.

Turgon’s head snapped down and a look of shock passed across his features.

“By Eru, Laurefindel! What are you doing here?” Turgon called down to him, the pitch of his voice betraying his surprise and bewilderment.

Glorfindel ignored the question and instead called up, “You _have_ to come down here, Turukáno. It is amazing! The moon is so bright, and it is snowing!”

Turgon rolled his eyes, but an excited grin had begun to spread across his face. He hesitated for a moment, looking back into his room before turning back to Glorfindel’s waiting form far below on the snowy grass.

“Oh…alright…” he finally relented, unable to resist the temptation of playing in the snow with his friend. “Just let me get ready and I will be right down,” he called, and disappeared back into his room, closing the window behind him.

A few minutes later the front door creaked open and Turgon peaked around, his hair covered in a thick warm hood lined with fur. He spotted Glorfindel and ran over to him, his cheeks flushed with excitement as he skidded to a halt in front of his friend.

“I was thinking maybe we could go and explore the mountains. They would be so beautiful tonight, and if we climbed to the top we could watch the mingling of the lights,” Glorfindel gushed, already impatient from waiting, and clearly very excited about his idea.

Turgon’s eyes lit up and he nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes! But let us first go and find Findaráto. He would hate to miss out on this…” he said, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of their cousin’s house.

“You’re right. We cannot go without him,” Glorfindel agreed with a small nod. Grinning widely, he took Turgon’s hand and pulled him down the path, laughing as he stumbled through the deep snow.

They stumbled to a halt in front of their cousin’s house, breathless from running through the snow.

“Alright, let us get our cousin,” Turgon panted, bracing his hands against his knees. He grinned up at Glorfindel, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Are you going to use your stone throwing trick again?”

“Of course! It is really quite effective you know, Turukáno,” Glorfindel teased as he scooped a handful of pebbles from the pathway. Pulling his arm back, he hurled the pebbles at the window of their cousin’s room.

It took both Turgon and Glorfindel’s combined efforts to coax Finrod into joining them, and even then he was reluctant. But eventually he relented and emerged from the house clad in warm winter clothes and a thick scarf.

“Are you two sure this is a good idea?” Finrod asked softly, his face nearly hidden by the thick scarf that engulfed his neck. “Atto will be really mad if he finds out I am gone…”

“Oh come now Findaráto. You will have no fun if you go and worry about all of that now,” Turgon chided, grabbing Finrod’s hand and tugging him along.

Finrod bit his lip, glancing up one last time at the house, before somewhat reluctantly following his cousins.


	2. Chapter 2

As they climbed the mountain at the edge of the city, Finrod began to relax slightly. The light of Telperion shone even brighter outside, illuminating the whole mountain side in a beautiful silver light, and it was impossible to stay worried for long.

Glorfindel on the other hand practically skipped the whole way up, his eyes bright with excitement.

“Bet you can’t catch me!” he cried, racing on ahead of the others.

Turgon laughed and dashed after him. “Oh no you don’t!” he cried, stumbling and tripping through the snow after Glorfindel.

Glorfindel turned to see Turgon in pursuit and gave a shriek of victory, only to fall face first into the snow. Turgon dove on top of him, laughing as he wrestled his cousin to the ground. “Now…I’ve got…you!” he panted.

Glorfindel struggled beneath his friend’s hold, his wild shrieks muffled by the snow.

“Oof…Turukáno…Lemme up!” he gasped, shoving Turgon off and struggling to his feet. He moodily tried to brush off all of the snow that had caked on his clothes and hair, huffing loudly. However, this brooding façade was dropped after only a few moments and he was about to dive at Turgon again when Finrod’s quiet voice floated up to them.

Glorfindel turned, taking in the somewhat comical sight of Finrod trudging through waist deep snow, his now rather wet blonde hair sticking out over the rim of his thick scarf. Really that scarf was quite a bit too large as only Finrod’s worried eyes were visible above the swathes of fabric.

“Do you think maybe we should head back? It is snowing really hard…” Finrod said softly, his voice sounding strangely muffled beneath the scarf.

Turgon had by now pulled himself out of the snow and frowned, looking up at the sky. Finrod was right, it was snowing pretty hard.

“Aw…but we have already come all of this way…we cannot just turn back now!” Glorfindel whined, gesturing towards the slope they had just scaled to emphasise the distance they had already come. He gave both his cousins his best attempt at pleading puppy dog eyes and Turgon rolled his eyes.

“Alright, how about we just go to the top of the mountain and then turn around?” Turgon looked questioningly back at the other two. They both nodded their agreement, although Finrod’s affirmation was rather reluctant.

“Okay, but let’s race!” Glorfindel suggested and took off again without waiting for a response, his long golden hair streaming behind him as he dashed up the snowy mountain.

The wind had heightened quite rapidly and it swept around them, sending up great billows of snow and swirling the sparkling flakes around until all that could be seen was a spinning white cloud. Glorfindel laughed, enjoying the way the wind pulled at his hair and the excitement that rose in his chest as he ran faster. It was almost like flying! He wanted to stay this way forever—wild and free and racing with the wind. He gave a great cry of excitement, leaping up into the air, but as he came back down, his foot slipped, and with sickening speed his feet slid out from underneath him, pitching him over the edge of the cliff and tumbling down the steep rocky slope.

“Laurefindel!!” Turgon screamed, his eyes wide with terror as he stood frozen in horror.

Finrod was right behind him, dashing to the edge of the cliff. He peered over the edge; face white with shock and fear, but he could see nothing past the swirling eddies of snow that whipped around them. “Findel…” he whispered in horror, but the wind snatched his softly spoken words away almost immediately.

“The cliff is too steep here…we will have to find another way,” Turgon said shakily, his hands clenched together in terror. “Come on.” He grabbed Finrod’s arm and dragged him back down the snowy slope; searching for a safer way down the treacherous cliff.

Finrod could feel himself begin to shake as he followed Turgon back the way they had come. Horror at what had happened sunk into him like icy water soaking into thick cloth, chilling him to the bone, and he could not get the image of Glorfindel’s shocked face out of his mind. He fixed his eyes on the path in front of him, praying desperately to the Valar to keep his cousin safe as they stumbled through the deep snow.

Then Turgon was beckoning to him, calling his name. He had found a way down.

Scarcely daring to breathe, the two elves made their way down the steep slope, holding onto half buried trees to keep themselves from tumbling down after Glorfindel.

“Laurefindel! Laurefindel!” Turgon called into the night, his voice growing hoarse from fear and exhaustion as he screamed out his friend’s name. But he had to keep trying. They could not give up, and he refused to accept that they might be too late.

.....

 

Pain flared through his leg. White hot agonising pain that sucked away his breath and wrenched hot tears from his wide and terrified eyes. Glorfindel screamed, his voice panicked and wild as his body gave way beneath the pain. He curled up in the snow, writhing in agony as more daggers of pain lanced through his leg. There was blood in the snow, dark and thick against the white frozen crystals. Glorfindel felt his panic rise, swallowing him up as he stared at the blood soaked snow and the tattered remains of his pant leg. There was so much blood. So much.

.....

Turgon’s heart was racing, pounding nauseatingly in his chest as he stumbled through the snow, dragging Finrod behind him. He stopped dead in front of a tree, horror slamming into him as his eyes fell on the small figure sprawled in the snow. Golden hair was streaked with blood, and the snow around him was crimson. Glorfindel was moaning and crying, his breath ragged as he dragged in each shuddering breath of air.

Turgon ran to him, swallowing down the terror that rose inside him.

“Fin, Findel…” he panted, throwing himself down in the snow next to his friend.

“Tur-Turukáno,” Glorfindel gasped, tears rolling down his bone white cheeks as he wrapped his arms around himself. “M-my l-leg…I-I…hurts,” he sobbed, drawing in sharp ragged breaths as he tried to form words through the foggy haze that was creeping up around his mind.

Turgon bent down, moving away some of the shredded cloth so he could get a better look at Glorfindel’s injuries. As the wet, blood-soaked fabric fell away he gave a horrified gasp, his hand racing to his mouth. A deep jagged gash ran down Glorfindel’s leg, all the way from his knee to his ankle. Blood gushed from the wound and Turgon could see the glint of white bone beneath the mass of mangled flesh and blood. He was vaguely aware of Finrod beside him, placing a hand on his back as he gasped as well, murmuring something about Eru and blood.

Turgon swallowed, and swallowed again, fighting down the bitter bile that rose in his throat.

“It’s alright, y-you are going to be okay,” he mumbled, trying to reassure Glorfindel who was panicking even worse now. Oh why had they come out here alone?! Now they were stranded alone in the forest and Glorfindel was losing more blood by the second.

Finrod began to cry, huge tears welling up in his blue eyes and dripping down his cheeks. He was almost as pale as Glorfindel, and Turgon felt as sense of panic rise up within him. What did he do now? What would his father do?

_Stop the bleeding._ A voice said within him, urging, pleading. His eyes fell on the scarf around Finrod’s neck and he grit his teeth, motioning for Finrod to hand it over.

“Give me your scarf,” he said urgently and Finrod complied, unravelling the large piece of fabric and handing it over to Turgon.

Turgon snatched it up, murmuring his thanks in tight words as he again knelt next to Glorfindel.

“I need to put this around your leg, okay? W-we have to stop the bleeding,” he told Glorfindel shakily, and without waiting for a reply, he pressed the scarf against his friend’s wound.

Glorfindel screamed; an agonised, terrified sound that made Turgon sob with terror.

He was crying now too, his words little more than pained whimpers as he tried to reassure Glorfindel. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he sobbed, but it was not okay. It was far from okay.


	3. Chapter 3

Blood was soaking through the scarf, staining its blue fabric much too fast as Turgon pressed the cloth against Glorfindel’s leg. His friend’s face was chalk white and he was shaking badly, his teeth chattering together as he clutched at the fabric of his tunic. Panicked tears filled his eyes and ran down his cheeks, falling into the snow where his hot breath had melted a small hole in the deep drift.

“This isn’t working,” Turgon said, his voice raw with despair. Glorfindel was fading at a frightening speed and there was nothing either he or Finrod could do to slow the bleeding.

Finrod nodded mutely, unable to speak through the huge lump of fear that had lodged itself in his throat.

Turgon swallowed, tearing his gaze away from Glorfindel for a moment to look up at Finrod. “You have to go for help, Findaráto,” he said, his voice shaking as he met his friend’s wide eyes. Finrod did not look as if he could make it more than two steps without fainting, but what other choice did they have? “Go!” he urged, when Finrod did not move. “I have to stay with Glorfindel. Please, find help.”

Finrod stared at him, his eyes wide with terror, and then turned, stumbling up the steep slope they had descended.

Turgon could hear him sobbing as he ran and he felt another pang of panicked fear stab through him. None of them had been ready to deal with something like this.

**.....**

Finrod struggled madly through the deep drifts, the icy wind tearing at his face. He stumbled again and again, falling hard on his knees and one time hitting his chin sharply against a half buried tree stump. But he kept moving, fighting the fear that engulfed his terrified mind as he forced himself to push onwards.

The forest all looked the same. The trees identical in their beds of downy snow. Finrod wanted to scream. To fall to the ground and sob until the cold ate away at his bones and there was nothing left of him for the fear to devour. Tears streaked his face, now frozen by the biting wind and shining like clear crystals in the frosty light. He sagged against a tree, his whole body trembling from cold and shock and Eru knew what else. He felt sick and his breathing was coming in short gasps, raw and ragged in his throat as if each breath only tore further into his flesh instead of bringing oxygen to his starved lungs.

“Help!!” he suddenly screamed, raising his head to the raging skies, his eyes brimming with fresh tears of desperation. “Help! Somebody HELP!!” His knees buckled beneath him and Finrod fell to the ground, landing hard against the edge of the tree. “Please…Eru please…I need help,” he sobbed, burying his face in his frozen hands.

He did not know how long he crouched there, small body shivering in the cold as he sobbed and pleaded with the Valar to help his friend. But suddenly there was a voice, strong and powerful like his father’s but with a sharper, more commanding tone to it. If Finrod had been more aware, he would have noticed this, but as it was, he was too distraught to pick up on such subtleties. Someone was there—someone had come to help, and that was all that mattered.

“Help! Help!” he screamed, dashing to his feet and stumbling after the voice. His eyes were blinded by tears and he could not see where he was going, but the voice led him on; echoing through the night, giving him hope where moments before there had been none. Then suddenly he crashed into something hard and reeled backwards, head spinning in shock and confusion.

Before Finrod could topple over, a strong hand caught his arm and he was pulled upright; his face pressed against something warm and soft.

Finrod tilted his head up to see his saviour and his eyes went huge; fear and shock rippling in their blue depths as he beheld the true nature of the voice that had given him such hope.

“Ahh!!” he shrieked, stumbling backwards as he tried to escape the figure looming over him, but the man was too quick, grabbing his arm in a firm grip and turning him again to face him.

“Findaráto?” the voice spoke, a note of confusion to his tone as he beheld the terrified elfling before him.

Finrod whimpered, trying to pull away from the man. Of all the people to be out in the woods. Of all the people he could have run into. It had to be his Uncle, Fëanor. It was not that his Uncle treated him badly… But ever since their first meeting, the man had terrified Finrod to the point he refused to be alone in Fëanor’s presence.

Fëanor stared down at the struggling elfling, taking in the shaking form and trembling lips and the streaks of tears that ran down his pale cheeks. What in Arda was his nephew doing out here all alone in the middle of a snowstorm? Surely Finarfin did not let his son wander around alone at night…

“Findaráto please do not struggle. It is alright, I am…not going to hurt you.” Fëanor stumbled over the words, suddenly at a loss of what to say. He was not good with comforting others, especially when those others happened to be the sons of his younger brothers. He knew his brothers’ sons regarded him with fear; a reality that saddened him at the same time as fueling a fiery resentment towards his two brothers.

Finrod began to cry again, his small quivering body convulsing with sobs as he gave up and sunk to the ground in front of Fëanor.

“Come Findaráto, let us get you home,” Fëanor said, speaking more strongly this time and with a more commanding tone. He was beginning to grow worried. Finrod looked to be in bad shape and he feared the young elf might be suffering from hypothermia or shock. But Finrod just shook his head, taking huge gasping breaths as he began to speak in broken, halting phrases.

“N-nno…Lau—Laure—fin…fell..rocks cut and---b-b-blood. So much b-blood…” Finrod broke off, sobbing again as he dug his nails into Fëanor’s arm. “Turukáno s-said to f-find help…need h-help…”

Fëanor stared at his young nephew, his brow creased with confusion. He could barely understand the boy with his broken sentences, but it was clear Finrod was greatly distressed. Names could be put together from the ellon’s speech, and Fëanor’s quick mind began to churn over what he had heard, forming the pieces into place in his mind.

Something had happened to Glorfindel and somehow Fingolfin’s son was mixed up in it as well.

“Where are they?” he growled at Finrod who took one look at him and began to cry harder. Fëanor cursed under his breath, fighting the urge to shake the boy. He needed to remain calm. In his haste he had grown too harsh and only succeeded in making the situation worse. Taking a slow, steady breath, he leaned down next to Finrod and said in as soft and gentle a voice as he could manage: “I am sorry, Findaráto. I know you are frightened, but I need to know where Laurefindel and Turukáno are if I am to help them. Now, I know we have not gotten along in the past, but I am going to help your friends. Okay? You just need to show me where they are.”

Finrod turned huge, blue, tear filled eyes to look up at Fëanor, and for a moment there was silence between them; the only sound the shriek of the raging wind and the rush of the snow as it was swept against the frozen trees. Finrod stared back into Fëanor’s eyes and then tilted his chin, biting his swollen lip as he nodded slowly.


End file.
